Song Drabbles
by SiriusHorcrux1018
Summary: [A collection of one-shots inspired by a variety of songs) Chapter 2: Sam remembers things about Jess all too well.
1. When You're Lonely

**A/N: One-shot! Maybe... I might be up for writing a follow-up chapter, or doing more of these one-shots. Let me know what you guys - the readers! - want and I will do my best to make it happen! ****I would suggest you listen to the song while you read – it'll give you the perfect background music and it'll help you set the scene.**

_**Song: **_When You're Lonely by Jana Kramer

_**Who:**_Dean/OC

**When You're Lonely**

She knew this phone call was coming. It always came. Usually at night when he'd had a couple to drink, or when he was drowning in his feelings, his fears, and had no idea how to deal with them. When he was feeling lonely, and needed someone there. Someone who may not completely understand his life but would be sympathetic and help him forget about everything.

She had known him for such a long time, had been friends for so long, that a part of her suspected that he took that for granted. Assumed she would always be there for him, just like she had always been. They hadn't tried the dating thing. The both of them knew that it wouldn't work out, as much as she wanted it to.

He travelled with his brother for a living, never staying in one place for too long. Travelled across America to hunt down and kill things that went bump in the night. Things that wanted to kill and maim people. He hunted _monsters_.

When he had told her, albeit reluctantly and _only_ upon her insistence about what he did for a living, she had laughed. He couldn't be serious, she said. Monsters only existed on TV and in crappy B-rated movies. He insisted differently, and could tell her stories that her worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. He had said it with such a definite tone too. The kind of tone that made her blood run cold and her heart stop. He wasn't lying – she could tell that he wasn't. Not with the tone, or that hard look in his deep green eyes.

People always said that one's eyes were the window to the soul, and in that moment, that phrase couldn't have been more true. She could _see _the truth he was telling her in his dark eyes. His very soul was trying to make her understand.

While she had never personally witnessed him work (and Thank God for that, she would think), she had headed to the library a few days later while he had left town again (naturally unsure of when he'd be coming back) and sat for hours. Stacks of books around her as she read up on demons, spirits and ghosts, shapeshifters. Whatever she could get her hands on. She had wanted to at least try to understood things from his perspective.

While she read and began to learn about the world that he and his brother lived in, she began to feel so many things for the man. Pride for the man who saved as many lives as he could, sadness for the lack of stability in his own life. Heartbreak for the personal sacrifice that Hunting demanded.

When she had asked why couldn't he just quit one night, his answer was simple: "Once you're in, you don't get out."

That one sentence could break her heart, and had, a thousand times over. So, one night when he had returned back to the small 1500 person town of Avery Creek, North Carolina that she called home, they had met up for a few beers, and she listened patiently as he detailed a few of his most recent cases, and what he had been doing since they last saw each other a couple months previous.

He would often take swigs of his beer every few minutes, his gaze on the beer in his hands as he talked, hands cradling the cool bottle. His grip switched between gentle or tight grip, depending on what part of the story he had been telling her at the time.

She had stayed silent until the very end, choosing to only speak his name and gently swiping a hand across his back, before leaning into him and hugging him. He had tensed up for only a brief moment, before letting his muscles relax. Taking one final pull of his beer, draining the rest, he had looked at her with a dark look, with lust (if she weren't mistaken), and asked if she wanted to get out of there. If she wanted to go home.

She had said yes.

That was how it had started. He'd call her up when he was close to Avery Creek, ask if she were free for the night. Ask if she wanted to meet up for a beer after she got off her shift at the local diner. He would try to hide the exhaustion from his voice, try to sound casual, but she knew. She knew that he was feeling any number of things at the time, and besides her and alcohol, had no other outlet. No other way to just _forget_.

And she would say yes. She always said yes.

If she were honest with herself, it was because the sex was fantastic. He was a man who knew just how and where to touch a woman to make her cry out with passion. He would say all the right things and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He would make her want to scream his name, to come hard enough to forget that the world was still spinning.

But she also said yes because he was broken. Losing himself in the arms of another person was therapy for him. It would make him forget all the horrible shit that he experienced in life. Make him forget about all the dark secrets of the world that only a handful of people knew about.

Tonight, though…

She stared at the vibrating cell phone in her hand, biting a plump lower lip in hesitation. She wasn't sure she wanted to answer, she wasn't sure if she wanted to say 'Yes' tonight.

Regardless, she found herself sliding her thumb across the phone's screen, and lifting the device up to her ear.

"Hey," she greeted after a minute, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Hey, beautiful. I'm in town."

"Oh yeah?" she questioned, trying to remain calm and casual. She risked a look at the clock on her bedside table. _1:06 am._ "When did you get in?"

"About an hour ago." There was a pause, before he asked the inevitable question: "Are you free tonight?"

"Yeah." She found herself replying.

She was _sure_ he was grinning. Those full lips pressed together in a crooked smirk. She could practically see it through the phone. "Feel like meeting up to grab a couple beers?"

She licked her lips, as she moved to sit on her bed. Getting comfortable, she grabbed a pillow to hug it. He may not have been physically in her room, but he was there. On the phone. In her head. And the pillow would act as a defense shield. An anchor for reality. She hugged it so tightly, she was sure her nails would rip it open.

When she didn't answer right away, she could hear his deep, husky voice come through the line again.

"Julia? You there?"

She swallowed again. _God_, did she love it when he said her name.

"Yeah, I'm here." She could hear her own voice crack in response, the lump in her throat growing bigger, making it harder to swallow.

"Julia? What's wrong?"

_Ever the protector_, she thought. A knight in shining armor.

"Nothing. I'm okay."

"No, you're not. What's going on? Are you hurt?" His voice grew tight. Tense, as if he was preparing to drive over with his arsenal of weapons. Ready to take on whatever was or had been attacking her. Ready to fix her, save her, because that's what he did.

"No, I'm fine."

"I'll come over-"

"Please don't."

There was silence on the other end of the line. It may only have been for a few moments, but it felt like _years_ to her. She let out a shaky sob, instantly regretting it. She needed to do this for herself. She needed to keep herself together.

"Why not?"

There it was. The Big Question.

_"Because my heart can't take it."_

She could feel her own heart shattering into a thousand pieces, as she let out another sob. Voice cracking, hot tears running down her cheeks.

He was silent on the other end of the phone, as if he didn't know how to respond.

"I can't do this anymore, Dean..."

"What do you mean? We're not doing anything."

"Exactly. We're not doing anything." she sobbed through the phone. She was gripping the device so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. "You only want me when you're lonely..."

"Julia-"

She cut him off. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. She didn't want to give him the chance to make her rethink this decision.

"I can't be that girl anymore, Dean. I can't be your therapy anymore. My heart can't take it." She took a shaky breath, closing her eyes tightly. The hot, angry tears that rolled down her cheeks went ignored. "I love you, and I care about you. I do. I'm not an idiot. I know what your life is like and I know you can't stay... But... I can't be waiting around for you to come around anymore, and only when you need me."

She let that settle, taking another shaky breath. With a final sob, she made one final request: "Please don't call me again."

Before he had the chance to protest, she hit the 'End Call' button, and tossed her phone away, hearing it clatter onto the hardwood floors. She didn't care if it broke. She could always replace it. Her heart on the other hand... that meant everything to her. As heartbroken as Dean might be, he would get over it. This, she was sure of. He would probably find another woman to drown himself in, and probably routinely had whenever he wasn't in Avery Creek. But her... she had tried for _so_ long to be what he needed, his own personal drug, and in the end, her heart couldn't hack it. Not with feelings growing more and more intimate and knowing she was ever only going to be that.

Curling up into a ball, and hugging her pillow, she let herself sob until she couldn't sob any longer. Until the sun rose, and the dawn of a new day began.

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	2. All Too Well

**A/N: **Thanks to EllieBomb for her awesome review! I've decided to go ahead and turn this into a collection of one-shot song-inspired drabbles, and would be happy to take any requests that you may have. It could be specific character(s), or a situation, or a song, or all three. If there's anything you want me to do, be sure to drop me a line in a private message or a review :)

As always, I encourage listening to the song because they're awesome songs, and it definitely helps set the scene/mood.

_**Song: **_All Too Well by Taylor Swift

_**Who: **_Sam (with mentions of Jess)

_Also, I realize that this song is about a breakup and not a death, but I'm taking writer liberties and switching it to fit the story._

**All Too Well**

The warm breeze of a California November ruffled through Sam Winchester's hair as he stood outside the apartment building that, up until 30 hours previous, he had called home. The place had been his whole life for the past four years, one of the only things he owned that had given him a sense of normalcy. It had been all his, decorated with second-hand furniture, with a few loving additions from his girlfriend of two years, Jessica Moore.

And now... Now it was all gone...

"You want me to come with?"

The low baritone voice of his older brother cut into Sam's thoughts. Sliding his dark eyes from the building to his brother, Sam shook his head, shaggy brown hair falling against his forehead.

"No, Dean. I'll be back."

Dean had simply nodded in acceptance, his green eyes full of concern and sympathy. He knew better than to push right now. Knew to step back and let Sam do this on his own.

"I'll be here."

Without another word, Sam took a deep breath and forced his legs to work. To step onto the curb and then down the steps. Forced himself to tightly grip the door knob and twist it open, and follow the hallway to the stairs that would lead him up to the third floor.

As he approached, the scent of smoke and burnt flesh filled his nose. Made his eyes tear up. Made his stomach roll, his throat tighten so he couldn't breathe. But he still forced himself to walk on.

He needed to see for himself if there was anything left, if anything had survived the fire.

Walking through what used to be their front door, he could clearly see their kitchen and living area in rubble. The white couch that Jess had insisted on buying when they had moved in together only six months after dating was now charcoaled and burnt so badly that Sam could see the wooden frame of it.

Sam moved forwards, letting his fingers drift lightly over the burned couch, feeling rubble crunch beneath his 6"4 frame. Stopping in front of what used to be their kitchen counter, he let out a shaky breath.

The charred remains of an iPod classic lay on top of a badly burnt linoleum countertop. With shaking fingers, Sam picked it up and pushed the center button, testing it to see if it would turn on. The screen remained black, obviously unusable now. Clutching it in his hand, Sam took a deep breath, letting his mind drift.

_"I don't mind spending every day, out on your corner in the pouring rain..."_

_Sam smiled as he gripped the steering wheel of the rental car with his left hand, his right left to rest on his lap. The sound of Jess's singing filled the car as they drove out of the Santa Clara county, on their way to visit Jess's parents in Los Angeles for the week._

_Glancing over, he watched her for a second and snickered as her bright smile grew bigger and she continued to sing._

_"Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while...!" She laughed through the verse as Sam's attention switched between her and the road._

_Throwing her head back, Jess laughed again and bellowed out "And she will be loved! And she will be loooooved!"_

_Sam's chest rumbled with laughter and he nodded in approval. "Wow, Jess. Nice."_

_"Why, thank you, Sam." She replied with a wink, pulling her blonde hair out of the messy bun she had thrown it up in earlier._

_"You know, we should do a duet." Sam suggested teasingly. Jess just quirked her brows in interest before erupting into laughter as Sam started singing terribly off-key with the chorus again._

_"Sam, stop!"_

_"Come on, we got this!" He laughed, his voice pitching and cracking as he sang. "She will-WILL BE LOOOOOOOVED!"_

That had been a great day, Sam remembered. It had been the day that he had met Jess's parents, and got to see firsthand what a real mom and dad was supposed to be like. A real mom and dad made dinner for their kid when they came home, gave them hugs and kisses when they walked through the door. A real mom and dad didn't ditch their young kids in a motel room and take off for weeks on end, hunting down the thing that killed their spouse. A real parent didn't leave their kids hanging, forcing them to rely on and protect each other from things that went bump in the night. Real parents didn't raise their kids to be warriors and soldiers.

That day, he had learned that his girlfriend, the gorgeous Jessica Moore, had actually been a little kid with thick glasses and braces, who used to play T-ball. He had watched her face redden with embarrassment and whine a plea for her parents to just _stop _and Sam hadn't been able to help the snicker.

_"If it makes you feel any better," he had tried. "My brother used to call me Sammy when I was a chubby 12-year old."_

That had instantly made her embarrassment lessen and she had repeated the nickname a couple times, letting it roll around on her tongue. Besides Dean, Jess was the only one he would allow to use the horrid nickname.

With a shake of his head, Sam let out the breath he had been holding and forced himself to focus. Forced himself to keep digging through the wreckage, see what else there was. He pocketed the iPod for now, not entirely sure what he would do with it.

Moving through the barely standing kitchen, he paused in front of the half-melted refrigerator and rested a hand against it, letting himself get lost. The two of them spending Saturday afternoons baking instead of studying. Being unable to sleep, so in the middle of the night, they'd open the doors, put some music on and dance in the refrigerator light. One or both of them stress-eating their way through a pint of ice cream during midterms or finals.

Things he remembered all too well.

For the next forty minutes, Sam picked his way through the burnt down apartment, pocketing items that he came across. Pocketing items that he had absolutely no idea what to do with but he knew he couldn't walk away from.

Items that reminded him of innocence, of the life that he had started to build with someone he considered his whole world. The life that he had run away to.

On his way out of the apartment, he stopped suddenly and looked down. He could feel his heart stop beating, and he clenched his jaw tightly. Fresh tears flooded his eyes as he slowly bent down to retrieve the final item. A cream coloured beanie. Or, it had been. Now it was covered in soot, but surprisingly, still in one piece.

It had been Jess's favourite. His too, until she had teasingly swiped it off his head and claimed it as her own. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he let his mind drift yet again to that day.

_"This is mine now," Jess claimed proudly, as she tugged the cream beanie down over her blonde curls. "What do you think? Looks better on me, huh?"  
_

_Puckering her lips together, identical to the "Duck Face" that every female seemed to be so into, she framed her face with her hands. Voguing, she had called it._

_"Yeah, looks good." Sam had smiled his reply, letting his eyes drift from the little suburban town street they were driving on, to her. And at that moment, he couldn't figure it out. Couldn't figure out how he had gotten so lucky. Jessica Moore was gorgeous, smart, funny. Everything he could ever want, and never thought he'd ever have._

_Suddenly, Jess's voice screeched out, yanking him from his thoughts. "SAM! Look out!"_

_Snapping to it, Sam slammed on the breaks, coming to an abrupt halt. He had just almost run a red light. Letting out a harsh breath, he eyed his girlfriend, willing his heart to stop pounding so hard. "You okay, Jess?"_

_"Yeah, yeah." she breathed. "I'm good." After a minute, she cracked a small smile. "What had you so distracted?"_

_Sam shifted a little in his seat, his cheeks pink. He wasn't Dean; he wasn't a regular Casanova, wasn't the kind of guy who could just say what he wanted and girls would be eating out of the palm of his hand. Finally, after a moment, he nodded in her direction._

_"Me?" She quirked her brows and that smile grew bigger. "You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over at me."_

_She teasingly tsked before leaning in and brushing her lips over his. "My, my, Sam Winchester. You're definitely something else."_

Sam was brought out of his mind when he felt a large hand slide onto his shoulder and grip it gently.

Dean.

"Sammy."

Sam let out a sob, feeling his already broken heart shatter into even more pieces. His fingers clutched the material in his hands so tightly, his knuckles were turning white as he openly sobbed. Sobbed for the love he'd lost, the innocence that was no longer there, the life he'd built, and the memories he remembered all too well.

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